Marisa 4: Gwendolyn's Story
by Prof. Voodoo
Summary: Marisa's origin story. Warning; this episode contains depictions of violent child abuse, so if that might bother you I suggest you skip it.


_This is a fan-fiction. The author does not own the property of the original concept, or any characters from Yu Aida's original._

"Try these..." urged the social worker, with a smile on her face. Gwen slipped the white & pink tennis shoes on, but had to ask for help tying them. The woman patiently showed her how to cross the laces, pass one underneath, make 2 big loops and tighten. "Are they too loose or too tight?" she asked, "We can always try a different size."

"They're just right!" Gwen assured her. She could not take her eyes off her new shoes.

"They might take a little while to break in, but they'll feel just fine after a few days of walking in them."

The girl wore a grin from ear to ear. "I'll never take them off!" she promised.

The morning Gwendolyn Doyle walked home from the Women & Children's Shelter wearing new shoes was, as far as she could remember, the best day of her life. Mummy held her hand as she walked through the streets of Sheriffer, and for the first time in weeks Mummy was somewhat clean & sober. They had eaten a decent meal at the shelter. They had each had a bath. They had slept in a bed that did not stink and was not crawling with bugs. While Mummy talked to the counselors about kicking her heroin habit Gwen got to read from an endless pile of magazines. She couldn't really _read_ them of course, only girls & boys who went to school could read, but she could make out a few words and the pictures were wonderful. Travel magazines were the best, filled with fascinating pictures of far off places. On a day like today Gwen could actually believe that she might someday see those places with her own eyes. Places far away from Dublin, far away from hunger, and cold, and needles full of heroin.

Today Gwendolyn walked on new shoes, donated by an overseas charity. They were the first shoes she had owned in what seemed like years, and she felt like they could take her anywhere. She looked up at her Mummy, and silently prayed that they would keep on walking straight out of Sheriffer, and never go back to Colin's flat again. But she knew that was too much to ask.

As wonderful as the morning had been it was not enough to chase away the hell that came with night. Gwen knew she had to hide her new shoes from Colin, but she did not hide them well enough. Anything that had even a tiny scrap of value, Colin took, and brought to the pawn shop down the road. Gwendolyn buried her prize under the blankets & rags that made up her bed but before the sun had even gone down he had found & taken her new shoes. Mummy was out "working" so she could not help.

Colin was a grown man, and Gwendolyn knew neither she nor Mummy could fight him (not that Mummy ever even tried), but that one night some fury possessed the tiny girl. She gathered all the strength and will in her 8 year old body and attacked her Mummy's "boyfriend" viciously. It was not just the shoes...it was not just the heroin that he gave to Mummy...it was not that he spent every penny that he & Mummy had on his own drink and cigarettes. Gwen hated Colin with every fiber of her existence and tonight she wasn't going to run and hide from him any more.

"Goddamn it, what the fuck do you think yer doin'?"

"Give them back!" she screamed, clawing at the man with all her might. He shoved her back easily, but Gwen pressed her attack. This time she bit him.

Colin screamed, and kicked her away, "You goddamn little bitch!" he cursed. She had bitten him hard enough to draw blood. His eyes grew wild with rage, but Gwen did not back down.

"Give me my shoes back!" she growled, picking herself off the floor.

The man grabbed her by the hair and hissed directly into her face, "These fucking things are goin' straight to the pawn...I'll be lucky if I can get 5 bob for 'em. You like livin' here do ye? You want to be out on the street?" His breath stank of whiskey and cheap tobacco.

"I'd rather be on the street than here with you!" she snapped.

He gave her a smile that was pure evil, and replied, "Alright you fucking bitch, you want to be out on the street? Go...get out on the street!" Colin dragged Gwen across the room to the window, "You want the fucking street? Here it is!" The 8 year old fought as if her life depended on it, but he picked her up by her hair and threw her straight through the window. As shards of broken glass cascaded around her Gwendolyn scrambled for grip! She just caught the window frame with her fingers, and her bare feet managed to grab onto cracks in the brick wall.

The alley was 4 floors down. Gwen held on for life, tiny fingers slippery with her own blood. She expected Colin to pry them loose any second now and finish the job, but he never came. The girl was unable to pull herself up without losing her grip, so all she could do was hang on and wait.

2 hours passed. It was getting cold and she shivered violently. The irony was not lost on Gwen that if she still had her shoes she would not be able to hold onto the crack in the bricks with her toes. There was lots of time to think about things like that. She considered just letting go. She would fall for just a few seconds, then it would be over...life, hunger, pain, all done with in an instant. She wondered if it would hurt to die.

"Gwendolyn!" it was Mummy's voice. She looked up to see her mother reaching out of the broken window, grasping at her wrists.

"Help me!" Gwen begged, "Colin threw me out here!" It was a painful struggle but Mummy managed to drag her inside. Gwen held onto her and cried. "Mummy, please say we can go, please say we don't have to stay here!"

"What did you do?" Gwen's mother asked, "What did you do to make him so mad?"

"Mummy he took my shoes! They weren't his but he stole them! I tried to fight him but he threw me out the window!"

"Baby, you can't do that," Mummy told her "we need Colin, we would be out on the street without him."

Gwendolyn could not believe what she was hearing "But Mummy he _threw me out the window_! He tried to _kill me_! We don't need him...we can go stay at the shelter!"

Gwen's mother let her go. She sat on the couch and was silent for a long time. "Mummy? Please...say something" the girl implored.

"I just...just need time to think..." muttered Mummy. She stood up and walked into the bathroom.

"Nooooo, Mummy, not that!" cried Gwen. She knew what was happening. "Don't shoot up again, you promised you would stop!" The girl jammed her bare foot in the door, but her mother shoved her back and locked the door. "Don't do this because of me! We don't have to go! I'll be nice to Colin, I'll be good! Mummy, pleeeasseee don't!" She beat her little fists on the door, wishing she was strong enough to break it down and rip the spoon and the lighter out of Mummy's hand.

When Gwendolyn ran out of strength she stopped, and everything was silent. She knew from years of experience that Mummy would be gone for a long time. The girl walked to the shattered window, disregarding broken glass on the floor. Her hands, sliced by the same glass, didn't hurt much anymore, but she knew they would scar. Gwendolyn had 8 scars, same as her age, but now she would have two extra. She traced a line in her own wet blood on the windowsill and wished she had the courage to climb back outside. She wished she had the courage to fall this time.

**_Learning to Work_**

Colin Wylie was a squatter in a semi-condemned building. There was only one light in the flat, a bare bulb that hung from the ceiling of the main room. Besides that main room there was a kitchen with an ice-box that had been broken as long as Gwen could remember, and 2 bedrooms. Gwen had something resembling a bed...it was a pile of discarded blankets & clothes, most of which she had found in the trash. It smelled bad and it was always filled with roaches and bed-bugs, but on cold nights it was better than freezing to death. The only window had been covered by plywood for a year, ever since that miserable night when Colin had taken Gwen's only pair of shoes.

Gwendolyn & her mother had not been to the shelter since that day. Mummy was on the couch now...silent and as still as a dead body. Her skin was waxy & pale. Gwendolyn watched her for hours, terrified that she would stop breathing, terrified that she did not know what to do if that happened.

Mummy seemed to be breathing, so Gwen walked around the flat. She was careful to take short steps in the darkness, so she would not step on a needle. You got the AIDS from needles, and you could die from the AIDS, Gwendolyn knew that much.

Thankfully Colin had not been around for 2 days...she hoped he had left for good and found another "girlfriend" to hurt so he would not hurt Mummy anymore. That was probably too much to ask though...Colin sometimes disappeared for days but he always came back. When he came back he always had more heroin, and that was what held Mummy in his grip.

Gwen wandered into the kitchen and looked through the empty cabinets for what seemed like the thousandth time. She desperately hoped here was some scrap of food that she had overlooked on her previous inspections, but of course there was none. Sometimes she snuck out and searched the garbage cans in the alley for something to eat, but it was night time now and there might be dangerous men sleeping out there now.

The only other thing for her to do in order to pass the time was gather up needles. She carefully collected all the syringes she could find and put them in a pot on the stove. She had heard you could kill the AIDS by boiling needles, so she desperately hoped Mummy would do it when she was done being high. It was not likely...the burners on the stove had not worked in ages. Gwen was terrified that her Mummy was going to get the AIDS from a bad needle and be dead the next day.

Gwendolyn knew better than to throw the needles away though. In a burst of defiant courage she had done that, but only once. The girl had collected every needle, spoon, and lighter in the flat, carried them out to the alley, and thrown them in the trash. When Colin found out he flew into a rage and beat her with his fists & boots. Once she was down, and unable to move, he dragged her into the bathroom and burned her palms with a clothes iron, giving Gwen her 11th & 12th scars. Mummy never even got up off the couch to help her...she was going through withdrawals that hurt too badly to move.

Gwen heard a noise from the main room. She dashed in to see Mummy waking up. It was as close a feeling to happiness as Gwen knew how to feel! She crawled up on the couch so that her face would be the first thing Mummy would see once she became lucid. In time, she opened her eyes with a groan "Hi Baby...have you been being good?" she asked. Gwen nodded and smiled. "Bring me some water..."

The girl dashed to the bathroom, the only place in the flat where the water still worked, and filled the cleanest glass for her mother. Chloe Doyle drank it down fast, and then leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Where's Colin?" she asked.

"He's not here," Gwen answered, "maybe he isn't coming back this time."

"He better come back" she replied. Chloe was out of smack. Her last hit had been the very last she could scrape together, and she was already beginning to feel desperate for more.

"Mummy," implored Gwendolyn, "we haven't got any food. We _need_ to go find some food."

"Where the hell are we going to get that?" Chloe muttered, "Food costs money, have you got any money?" Her daughter shook her head. "We just need to wait for Colin to come back..."

"Mummy, no!" Gwen objected, "We can go to the shelter, we can get food there!"

"We're not going to that goddamn shelter" sighed Chloe, "now leave me alone & let me rest."

Gwen would not leave her alone. She grabbed at Mummy's sweatshirt and shook her. "Get up, Mummy! We need to get out of here! We need to get some food!"

Chloe lashed out violently! "I told you to leave me alone, damn it!" she screamed. Gwen was tossed to the floor. The girl scrambled around, terrified that she would land on a loose needle and catch the AIDS.

"Mummy, get up, NOW! We need to go get food!" she continued to cry!

Chloe's face was twisted with rage. She finally struggled to her feet, she'd been on that couch so long she that Gwen could see bedsores on her mother's skin. "You want to see how we get money? Come on, goddamn it, you want money so bad..." She grabbed Gwendolyn by the hair and dragged her out the door, and down the stairs.

A half hour later the 2 stood in the rain, on a street with lots of dangerous looking people. Mother and daughter did not stand together though...Gwen was ordered to stand back in the shadows, near a cluster of garbage cans. Barefoot, and wearing only a threadbare nightgown, Gwendolyn shivered & watched what went on around her.

There were women, some of them pretty, most of them worn down and thin like Mummy. They walked up and down the street, talking to the men who drove or walked past. Occasionally one of the men would stop and talk to a woman, and then he would leave with the woman. At one point a man stopped his car to talk to one of the women, but another woman came close and tried to interrupt. The first woman screamed at her and tried to slash her with a razor blade. With terrified tears streaming from her eyes Gwen shrank down and tried to hide behind the trash cans. She prayed that nobody would slash Mummy with a razor.

Chloe was not having any luck tonight. None of the Johns stopped to check her out, some even shouted obscenities at her. At last a man stopped to talk to her. He was tall, with a dark beard and a long coat. "How you doin' t'night Chloe?" he asked. Gwen was frightened of this man and wished her Mummy would stop talking to him.

She did not stop talking to him. "Right as rain, Mick, you ready fer a toss tonight?"

"You don't look so good Chloe...you eaten anything yet today?" he asked.

"Gotta work to eat, have some pity, Mick...I got something special for you tonight."

"Oh yeah?" asked the man with the beard, "you don't say?"

Chloe took his hand and led him to the trash cans. "Get out here, you!" she ordered, and Gwendolyn crept out of hiding on trembling legs.

"Jesus, Chloe!" exclaimed the tall man, "are you insane?"

Gwen's mother stood behind her, and brushed dirty, matted hair out of her face, "She's scrawny but she's cherry, I guarantee it, she's me own daughter."

"Chloe, you can't be serious..." he muttered.

Chloe leaned down and spoke to her daughter. "You're going to go with this nice man. He's going to teach you all about working, and then he's going to give you something to eat."

"Mummy, no!" Gwen begged, "Don't make me go with him, I'm scared, I want to stay with you!"

"You wanted this, little girl, you can't change your mind now!" she snapped, giving Gwen a painful smack on the back of her head "_This_ is how we get money for food, and it's about time you learned that!"

The tall man looked her over...Gwen could practically _feel_ his eyes crawling all over her body. She did not know what this man was going to do to her, but she didn't want it. Every instinct Gwendolyn possessed told her this was wrong. She was terrified. "Chloe, are you really sure about this?" he asked.

"She's got to learn from someone," Mummy answered, "you're as good a bloke as any, Mick."

He took a deep breath, and asked "How much?"

"Fifty bob" Chloe answered without hesitation, "you're never gonna get a genuine virgin for less than that." Gwendolyn looked at her mother with horrified eyes. 50 pounds was more money than she had ever seen in her life, but she still did not want to go with this man.

Mick pulled out his wallet...and flashed a badge. "Place your hands against the wall, you are under arrest" he told Chloe.

Gwen's mother screamed at the man and attacked him with her own razor blade! He sidestepped the blow easily, but Chloe recovered & slashed wildly at him. Gwendolyn rushed out from her hiding spot by the trash cans and tried to stop her Mummy, but she was knocked to the wet pavement. In an instant the alley was flooded with light, and more police officers arrived on the scene. Although Gwen did not understand what was going on it was a full blown vice raid on the Sheriff Street neighborhood.

As several officers subdued her enraged mother, Gwendolyn was picked up by a policewoman. She screamed, and punched the officer in her face, but the cop did not put her down. "Calm down, darling, we're going to take you someplace safe!" she tried to pacify the thrashing 9 year old.

"Let me go! I want to go with Mummy!" she spat! Gwen had no idea where they would take her...in her mind this was just as bad as going with the tall bearded man to his flat. She punched and kicked and tried to bite the policewoman, but it was no use. Gwen was placed in the back of a Ford Mondeo police car. Through the rain spotted window she watched as her mother was cuffed and placed into another car...separate from the other prostitutes being rounded up. Gwendolyn screamed and pounded her fists on the glass, but it was the last time she ever laid eyes on her Mummy.

**_Retirement_ **

_Taverna Tifosi_ was a neighborhood bar on the out-skirts of Monza, less than 30 minutes walk from the legendary racetrack where the Italian Grand Prix was held each year. The walls of the bar had once been adorned with a vast collection of Formula One memorabilia, as well as a big screen television for watching races broadcast from nations all around the globe, but all that was gone now. Most of the liquor inventory was gone as well.

Elio walked around in the dusty bar room, sweating in the heat of the un-air conditioned building. He wondered where to start. Elio was 53 years old and had never owned, or even worked at a civilian business before (although he had done enough bartending at the private MI-6 club to consider himself experienced at the craft). One thing was for sure..._everything_ was going to cost more than he had expected. Alboreto gazed at the portrait of his late father with mixed feelings. He'd barely known the man, but the locals spoke well of him. Even the thieves who had stolen the collection off the walls and the liquor from the back room had respectfully left the painting of _Signore Alboreto_ untouched. Elio's English mother, also long departed, never spoke poorly of the man, despite the fact that he left her with a son and never a single lira in support.

As an agent who had spent the bulk of his life in the clandestine services Elio was proud of his ability to read a man, but his own father remained a mystery to him. The two had only met a few times, all when Elio was an adult. They had attended the Italian Grand Prix together several times, and gone to a few matches of the 1990 World Cup. The two were always careful to include a significant distraction, like a sporting event, into any of their trips together, in order to avoid idle time where uncomfortable questions might come up.

Now that his father was gone Elio owned the bar, and the building it was in. The property would potentially fetch a good price on the open market, but he had no intention of selling. After spending the last 3 and a half decades of his life in the service of the British government Elio was ready to retire to something more honest and less violent. Monza was a little further from the seashore than he liked to be, but with a business to run Elio was sure there would be little time for SCUBA diving in his future.

Alboreto was roused from his silent contemplation by the ring of the telephone. Not his cell phone, but the land-line behind the bar. He didn't even know that was still hooked up. "Hello, this is Elio Alboreto."

"I know who you are, I called you!" laughed a familiar voice.

"Lorenzo!" he replied, happy to hear from an old friend, even if he was still engaged in a business Elio was trying to get out of. "I meant to call you this week...I'm in Italy now, but I guess you knew that. How did you get this number?"

"30 years as a spy and you ask me _that_?" Lorenzo muttered. "I'm sorry I missed your retirement party in London, but I'm involved in something pretty important these days."

"You missed a hell of a party, old buddy" lamented Elio.

"I'll bet I did. All the old spooks must have come out to give _The Godfather_ (Elio had never liked that nick-name very much) a proper shove-off" replied Lorenzo, "Maybe I can make it up to you. Can you get down to Rome this weekend?"

"I don't know about that," Alboreto said, "I'm trying to re-open my Pop's old bar up here in Monza."

"Just for the weekend," the voice on the phone implored "you can stay at my place, and check out this new thing I've got going on. I can arrange to pay you a generous consultant rate of course."

"Hold on..." growled Elio, "...I thought you just wanted to hang out a bit and catch up on old times. I am out of the game Lorenzo, do you hear me, I am out!" He felt guilty for getting angry at his old friend, but it was not the first time he had been approached about using his old skills. The British government, Europol, the American CIA, private security companies, Elio was a man in high demand, but in a field that he didn't want anything to do with anymore.

"We will spend most of our time drinking scotch and reminiscing about old times" Lorenzo assured him, "I hold you under no obligation, buddy. Just come down here and give the place a look. I'm a Section Chief you know."

"Congratulations, I'm fucking proud of you" Elio muttered, "Now please go to hell. I'm out of the game. Shite, I don't even want to go through another background check!"

"No background check, I promise" Lorenzo continued, "this kind of work is _beyond_ normal security...you only get in by knowing the right people."

"You're trying to push my buttons" Alboreto sighed, "do you think I won't tell you no, just because I'm a curious bastard?"

"I was hoping..." chuckled Lorenzo. The change in his old friend's tone of voice told him he was winning.

Elio shook his head. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but a _generous consultant rate_ was just what he needed to get the bar up and running. "Fine...one weekend, but the money better be right."

"I knew you wouldn't let me down!" Lorenzo replied, "Are you still driving that clapped out old Jaguar XJS?"

"She's a damn classic" Elio growled, "Is this what you really called me for? You ask a man to come out of retirement then insult his car?"

"A classic, sure, but I give it a 60% chance of breaking down on the _autostrada_ before you hit Florence. I'll send a car for you. A Russian woman will pick you up Friday afternoon."

"Sure thing" muttered Elio, "I guess I'll see you later that day."

"You won't be disappointed" Lorenzo assured him. Elio hung up the phone. He was already disappointed in himself.

* * *

After a 6 hour drive Olga dropped Elio off at Chief Lorenzo's house late Friday evening. As promised, Lorenzo had the scotch ready and the two men spent their night enjoying an excellent dinner and remembering stories of their younger days. They turned in well after midnight, and didn't get to the compound until almost noon the following day.

"Social Welfare Agency, eh?" Elio muttered, as the Section Chief drove, "So what's that a cover for?"

"The usual stuff," Lorenzo told him, "we're doing the jobs that the government doesn't want anyone to know need doing. Domestic terrorism, organized crime, violent extremists."

"The usual stuff..." repeated Alboreto.

Lorenzo gave him a twisted grin and added, "Not exactly...you'll see." The Chief drove past the office buildings and down a dirt road. They were in a training area just like dozens of others Elio had visited over the years. With the window rolled down he could hear gunfire from a range not so far away. Lorenzo stopped the car near an obstacle course and the two men got out of the car.

"My eyes must be going bad..." muttered Alboreto as he watched a small figure in a violet colored sweatshirt negotiate the course. It seemed to be a girl with long dark hair tied in a pony-tail. Lorenzo offered him a pair of binoculars. "I thought that's what I saw...shit, that kid can't be more than 10 or 11. Are you trying to tell me this is _really_ social welfare work you're doing?"

"Just watch." said Lorenzo. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted "ANGELICA! Show us what you can do!"

"Yes Sir!" the girl called back. She turned and effortlessly leapt to the top of a 4 meter wall. She then flipped, did a handstand, and vaulted back to the ground.

"You've got to be shitting me..." Elio muttered. Lorenzo smiled, he'd wanted this to be a shock and his plan had been effective. For his part Elio tried to stay calm and not let on how surprised he was. "So...genetic manipulation?" he asked.

"No, cybernetics" replied Lorenzo "the child you're watching was paralyzed by an attempted hit & run by her own father. He had a huge insurance policy on her and he decided it was time to collect."

"Jeeze," muttered Elio, "and I thought _my_ relationship with my father was awkward." The 2 men were conscious of what a cold-hearted joke it was, but they had both witnessed so much suffering in their lives that they were rather numb to it. Just then Elio remembered something. "Lorenzo, if what you're doing here is rebuilding little kids with cybernetic technology, what was all that talk about dirty work and domestic terrorism?"

"Maybe we ought to discuss that part in my office" Lorenzo answered.

As Lorenzo explained the truth about the Social Welfare Agency Elio alternated between anger and disbelief. The Section Chief had an answer for every one of his questions though.

"Lorenzo, we've done and seen a lot over the years, but I can't accept this...using children for combat missions. From what you're telling me they don't even have a choice."

"They don't know any other life" Lorenzo explained, "because of the brainwashing and the conditioning this is all they have. With no attachments beyond the agency and their handlers they are the perfect warriors."

"Does that make it moral?" Elio replied.

"You're not in a position to be sanctimonious just because you _retired_ a week ago." Lorenzo reminded him, "You've sent your share of young men & women on missions that you knew would mean their deaths, and you've done plenty of killing yourself."

"Yes, men & women," he retorted, "I've never had an 11 year old under my command!"

Lorenzo waved off the characterization. "You can't think of them as children. That part of them died along with their old lives."

"If I asked that Angela, the one we saw at the obstacle course today..."

"Angelica" corrected the Chief.

"If I asked Angelica how old she is, what would she tell me?" Alboreto challenged.

"She'd say 11 years," admitted Lorenzo, "but she would know it was a lie, or rather...not the whole truth. These cyborgs are aware of what they are, they have no memories of any other life. Of course they have emotional needs, but those are supported by their handlers. And that's where you come in."

"I was wondering when you'd get to that" muttered Elio.

Lorenzo continued; "We are currently working on a second generation of cyborg. These girls will have slightly lowered physical capabilities, but they will be more flexible, and we can tailor their abilities to specific mission requirements. We want to add a SCUBA diving cyborg to our line-up, and she'll need a handler."

"I can name half a dozen agents with the appropriate security clearance that could do that job" Elio told him "excellent divers, all of them."

"None with your _life_ experience" said the Chief "I need a man who can train a cyborg to dive and fight, but I also need a mentor for the handlers under my command. They're all eager and highly skilled, but they're young."

Elio shook his head and refused, "I'm not willing to be a Field Commander again...I did that for too long with MI-6. I've got a major case of _command burnout_."

"I figured you'd say that" Lorenzo sighed, "Anyway, I already have a man for that job. As I said, he's kind of young, but he's very driven. He's the oldest son of that public prosecutor who was assassinated a while back."

"Giovanni Croce?"

"That's the guy," Lorenzo answered, "I've got his younger brother on staff too. They're both good handlers."

"I thought the younger son was killed in the attack" Elio questioned.

Lorenzo shook his head, "No, that was their sister."

The 2 men sat in uncomfortable silence. Lorenzo felt as if he had said all that he could say. If he hadn't convinced Alboreto to come on board by now he never would.

"I have one question" Elio sighed "if I tell you _no_, like I want to, are you still going to do this using somebody else?"

"Yes" answered the Chief.

"Then I suppose my moral objections are irrelevant. Whatever happens is still going to happen, even if I'm not involved. So...I might as well be involved."

"I'm glad to hear it" Lorenzo said, "I hate to bring this up after practically begging you to sign on with us, but I have to ask you about drugs."

Elio shrugged his shoulders. "I drink...I smoke a little reefer. You know that."

"Yeah, who doesn't?" chuckled Lorenzo "You _do_ understand we don't smoke it in front of the cyborgs, right?"

"Of course not" Elio assured him.

The Chief took a more serious tone, "What I'm asking about is the painkillers. You went through a pretty rough stretch after that whole ugly mess back in Nicosia."

It was a memory Elio didn't feel like dredging up. The gunshot wound in his gut...the infection that nearly killed him...the others that didn't make it. "You're right to be concerned" he answered, "but I've been off that stuff for over 10 years now. I still avoid prescription opiates like codeine & morphine though, I hope your doctors don't have a problem with that."

"They'll understand" replied Lorenzo, "Now onto the topic of compensation. I think you'll find the pay to be more than adequate...I'll start you off at a rate befitting your 35 years of experience. For now here's a 'signing bonus' so to speak." Lorenzo wrote out a check and handed it to his old friend, "I strongly suggest you use it to acquire more reliable transportation than that old Jaguar of yours."

"I told you..." Elio grumbled as he took the check, "...she's a damn _classic_."

**_A Problem Case_**

At Saint Flora's Refuge for Girls, Gwendolyn had her own bed and a calico blanket. She slept in a ward with about 40 other girls. They all wore uniforms...white blouses with dark blue jumpers. At least she had shoes...basic black plimsolls with no laces. The facility wasn't technically an orphanage, it was a transitional home for girls who had lost their guardians or had been taken out of a bad situation like Gwendolyn, until they could be placed in a formal orphanage or with a foster family. Gwen had spent 2 years there so far.

All the girls counted their days like prisoners. They were woken by the nuns at 6am for morning Mass. If they behaved themselves at Mass they had breakfast next, which was normally oatmeal and cold milk, the powdered kind that came from a box. On holidays they had canned fruit as well.

Classes were next, lunch around noon, then more classes. 5 days a week they had regular school, taught by the nuns and a few "civilian" teachers, and then one day of Sunday school. Gwendolyn came to St. Flora's functionally illiterate, so she had been placed in a class with much younger girls, attracting the ridicule of all the age groups. After classes the girls were free to play until dinner & bed-time.

She had no friends. All the other girls knew how to play games and interact with each other, but Gwen had spent her whole life in a filthy heroin den, so she had not a shred of social skill. When she tried to reach out and make a connection she only screwed it up, and isolated herself further. When she became frustrated and lashed out she drew the wrath of the nuns down upon her, earning her a beating. Gwen learned quickly that the best policy with both children & adults was _try not to be noticed_.

Without anything else to occupy her time the girl worked hard to learn reading & writing. It was her only means to re-establish contact with Mummy. As soon as Gwendolyn felt confident enough to write a few sentences she begged the nuns for an address where she could write to her Mummy. At first they flatly refused. "Your mother is a worthless drug addict and a sinner whore" they told her, "you are best rid of everything to do with her." Gwen was defiant though...she continued to ask, every day. The girl held out hope that someday she could be re-united with her Mummy, who would be clean & sober now that she had broken her ties to Colin Wylie. After nearly 6 months of asking every day one of the kinder nuns, Sister Bertha, at last consented to look into the matter for her. Gwendolyn had to wait another month for an answer, but Sister Bertha kept her word and produced an address that she could write to at Dochas Women's Center. Gwen wrote a letter every day for 2 weeks, but got no response. She continued to write to her mother, but only once a week after that. She never received a single reply.

The nuns considered Gwen a "problem" case. She had opportunities to be adopted or placed in a foster home, but she torpedoed the nuns' every effort to move her along into the system. After a few attempts the incidents became predictable.

Gwen would be dressed in a spotless blouse & jumper, fresh from the laundry. One of the nuns would do her hair neatly, and they would wait outside Father Gerald's office while he talked to the prospective adopting parents. While they waited the nun would admonish Gwendolyn to be on her "_best behavior._" When summoned, they went inside.

"Gwendolyn, this is Mr. & Mrs. Cavanaugh" introduced Father Gerald, "they have 4 children and they would very much like to welcome another little girl into their family." As per the warnings of the nun Gwen was silent as he told her about their big yard, and about her potential brothers and sisters.

Finally, the priest handed the conversation over to the parents (the Cavanaugh's in this case). "So Gwendolyn, do you think you would like to come live with us?"

"I already have a Mummy" she answered flatly.

The couple squirmed in their seats uncomfortably, and Sister Joanna (the nun tasked with keeping Gwen under control this day) reminded her "Now we have discussed your biological mother before Gwendolyn. She is not able to take care of herself, much less a daughter. The Cavanaugh's can offer you a good, stable home."

"How much?" Gwen muttered.

The couple was confused. "Pardon me?" asked Mrs. Cavanaugh.

"How much are they selling me for?" the girl replied, "My Mummy asked for a whole 50 pounds for me. Are you paying Father Gerald more or less than that? Are you going to want to touch me like the man Mummy tried to sell me to?"

Negotiations broke down quickly after that, and Sister Joanna swiftly ushered Gwen out of the room while Father Gerald assured the parents that another, more suitable girl could be found. As soon as they were out of earshot of the priest's office the nun grasped Gwen with vice-like hands and gentle ushering turned into the girl being dragged down the hall. She twisted and squirmed, trying to escape Sister Joanna's painful grip, but it was a futile fight.

Gwen was dragged into a room where 2 more nuns waited, Sisters Theodora & Gladys this time. "You ungrateful little demon!" hissed Sister Joanna, "How _dare_ you embarrass Father Gerald like that after he worked so hard to find you a decent mother & father!"

"I already have a Mummy!" Gwen shouted. She knew what came next. The 2 waiting nuns bent her over a desk and held her down as Sister Joanna raised the skirt of her jumper and lowered her underpants. For the next 10 minutes the nun whipped the screaming girl with a heavy leather strap. By the end, Gwendolyn could not walk...she had to be carried back to the ward where she slept, and deposited roughly on her bed. The other girls mocked and teased her mercilessly, in spite of the fact that they themselves received the same brutal treatment at the hands of the nuns.

That was not Gwendolyn's first beating, and it certainly wasn't her last.

**_Walking with a Crutch_**

Doctor Bianchi shook his head in frustration. "Mr. Alboreto, I have to admit I'm impressed" he said sarcastically, "a lot of the people at the Social Welfare Agency have substance abuse problems, but you are the first person who has ever arrived for a counseling session _drunk_."

"I showed up on time, didn't I?" Elio grumbled, "Besides, if you want the truth from an old spy it's better that you catch him when he's plastered."

The psychiatrist was more annoyed than he had ever been in his professional career but he decided to move on. "Mr. Alboreto, the Chief is concerned about you. You haven't taken a day off since your cyborg died, you don't even go home at night. You don't interact with the other handlers...basically you work in the cybernetics research lab all day, then get drunk and pass out in your office. You're clearly experiencing post traumatic stress disorder. Stress like that is a genuine medical condition that effects you physically & mentally...not a character flaw like you self-proclaimed tough guys like to think it is. You can't force your way through this like an enemy...things won't get any better until you give your mind and your body time to relax and return to normal."

"I haven't done that in 35 years" Elio muttered.

Bianchi nodded and replied, "Is that how long you've been using alcohol as a crutch?"

"Don't forget I was hooked on painkillers for a while too, Doc."

"But you _acknowledge_ the booze is a crutch" Bianchi pressed.

"Doc..." asked Alboreto, "would you ask a man with a gimp leg to walk without his crutch?"

"I'd expect that man to get better, is that what you're doing?" the psychiatrist questioned, "Is this honestly the kind of life you want to live?"

"Unexpected shit happens Doc," Elio growled, "I thought I'd be tending bar up in Monza at this point in my life, diving on my day off and messing around with girls half my age."

"That sounds like a nice life" Bianchi told him, "why don't you go back to it? Chief Lorenzo has offered you the chance to resign honorably. He'd rather lose you as an employee than lose his friend completely."

Alboreto avoided eye contact with the doctor. He felt uncomfortable in any psychiatrist's office (he'd been in plenty), but this one was the worst. The walls were adorned with pictures of puppies, and there were toys on the bookshelves. Decorated to put the children...the cyborgs, at ease. For Elio these surroundings were just reminders of the girl whose death he felt responsible for. He finally leaned forward and admitted "I can't walk away until I know what happened to Marina. Maybe there was something I could have done differently, maybe not. If I'm to blame for her death I have to know."

"The investigation cleared you of any wrongdoing" Bianchi reminded him, "and commended you for action above and beyond the call of duty in trying to save her. Does that bring you no satisfaction?"

"That's _all_ I need," Elio growled, "another commendation...I have drawers full of that crap. Not one of them can bring back the people I lost in action."

"So those losses weigh pretty heavily on you" commented the doctor.

"Don't the patients you've lost haunt you?" retorted Elio. Bianchi conceded that point to him with a nod. "With Marina it was...different...it's hard to describe, and I shouldn't burden you with it anyway."

"Alboreto, I'm a psychiatrist, if you're going to talk to anybody about Marina's death it should be me!" exclaimed Bianchi. Elio was one of the most frustrating patients he'd ever dealt with.

Despite his instinctive resistance to opening up Elio did _want_ to talk about it, so finally, he did. "We condition these cyborgs to love and trust their handlers no matter what. Marina was no different. I decided a decent amount of conditioning for her, based on the Field Commander's recommendations. When we started training I was amazed...she picked up the book-work faster than any student I'd ever had. When I started putting her underwater she was never afraid. Once, I asked her about it she just said 'As long as you think it's safe I'll be okay.' And then we dove to 100 feet."

"That's where the accident happened?" Bianchi asked.

"She looked to me like she was cramping up, so I swam over to help. Cramps turned into convulsions. I couldn't do anything but hold onto her and try to get her to the surface. She was looking at me...with those damn blue eyes the engineers were so proud of...begging for help. She trusted me, Bianchi, she had total faith that I would never lead her into something that would harm her. I've never seen any human being in that much pain & fear...and I couldn't do a damn thing to help her." Elio took a breath and finished, "By the time we got back to the boat she was unconscious, vomiting blood all over the deck. We worked on her as much as we could but it was already too late. Marina was dead before we got back to the dock."

Bianchi had read the report, so the details were no surprise to him, but hearing the words come out of the mouth of Marina's handler still had a profound effect on him. "Lorenzo tells me you're determined to stay with the diving project, and manage another cyborg if we are able to try again."

"They say," Elio sighed, "that whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Once I believed that completely, but lately I've been feeling like there's less and less of me left over with every loss. Maybe I've pushed my luck too long, maybe I should have retired when I had the chance..."

"You still can" Bianchi answered.

"No," replied Alboreto, shaking his head, "I will see this through."

**_Mummy's Cross_ **

Gwendolyn did not expect her 11th birthday to be any different from any other day. Nobody even knew it was her birthday, and nobody cared anyway. She awoke at 6am like any other day, and kept perfectly quiet at Mass, which earned her the usual breakfast of oatmeal & powdered milk. Classes went as well as they ever did, despite her feverish efforts to learn reading & writing Gwen was still branded a dunce by her teachers & classmates. She still lagged behind in maths & Catholic catechism. As a direct result of her deficiency in the latter, her face still wore a faint black eye. It was now 3 days old, she had earned a cuff from Sister Helena for not memorizing the catechism of the day perfectly.

Geography class was her only delight in the day. Memorizing the names of exotic cities gave Gwendolyn a feeling of hope that she could someday escape the clutches of the orphanage, re-unite with her mother and travel to all the corners of the globe. It was the one class that she excelled at. Gwen earned no praise for her mastery of geographic knowledge however, the nuns only sneered at her "worldliness."

It was with no small amount of disappointment then that Gwen had to leave her favorite subject this day...called out of class by Sister Agatha. "Gwendolyn Doyle, you must see the Mother Superior, I will escort you" the nun told her staidly. At this the other girls snickered under their breath and whistled at her mockingly. Surely being called to Mother Superior's office meant Gwen had done something _gravely_ wrong and would be receiving the beating of her life! The clamor was swiftly silenced by a sharp smack of the teacher's meter-stick on her desk.

Sister Agatha said nothing as she led the girl down the hall, but her manner was strange. She held her hand on Gwen's shoulder gently, and looked at her with sympathy. This genuinely confused her...if she was in trouble the nuns never hesitated to roughly drag her down the hall, scolding all the way.

Gwendolyn entered Mother Superior's office on trembling knees. To the girl's surprise the old battle-wagon of a nun had a kind and gentle look on her face. She motioned for the girl to be seated. "Gwendolyn Doyle...I have some very unhappy news for you my dear. Your mother has been released from this world."

"Mummy has been released?" Gwen asked excitedly, "When can I see her!"

The old nun shook her head sadly, "No Gwendolyn, she has not been released from prison...she has passed on...your mother is dead."

She felt nauseous, and could hardly breathe. There was no denial...Gwen had feared this all her life so she accepted the Mother Superior's words as immediate truth. Mummy was dead. She practically collapsed in her chair, feeling real physical pain to go along with her anguish. Along with her mother all of Gwen's dreams for the future had died, all in an instant. She had never imagined a future that did not include Mummy. No tears came...yet...there were still too many questions. "How did she die?"

"You mustn't concern yourself with that my dear" said Sister Agatha.

"Tell me!" Gwen demanded, "Tell the truth, I have a right to know how my own Mummy died!"

Mother Superior took a deep breath and explained, "It was 2 days past. She was attacked in the shower. She died very quickly and did not suffer long." The old nun opened a yellow envelope and pulled something out. "You may take some comfort in knowing that before she departed this world your dear mother came to God." She handed Gwendolyn a crudely carved wooden crucifix on a piece of twine, "This was all she had to leave you."

Gwen held her mother's cross in her little scarred hand, and the tears finally came. They were not tears of sadness though, they were tears of anger. Her Mummy could come to God in her last days but she would not even write a single letter to her own daughter. The wooden crucifix was a mockery in Gwen's bleary eyes.

* * *

The other girls were just as merciless as usual when they found out, but for once the nuns defended Gwen from their cruelty. She wondered how long _that_ would last. With all the others chased out of the dormitory ward Gwen was left alone to grieve, laying in her bed, wrapped in her calico blanket. She held the thick wooden cross in her hand, examining every facet of it. Mother Superior had explained to her that mother has made this cross in the prison wood shop, and she had worn it every day of her last 6 months. _This was carved by Mummy's own hands when I was not with her,_ Gwen contemplated, _she wore this against her own skin_.

With hateful tears filling her eyes, Gwendolyn furiously squeezed the thing as hard as she could and crushed the crucifix in her hand. It broke into 3 pieces. Inside there was a hidden space...containing a tiny glass pipe, a few matches, and small brown chunks of what Gwen knew was heroin. _So it __was__ all a mockery_ she realized, _Mummy never stopped using...even in jail_. She now understood that all her dreams of being re-united with a clean & sober mother had meant nothing...even if Mummy hadn't been murdered she would have left jail just as bad as before. Gwendolyn's hope, her light at the end of the tunnel, was not just extinguished, she now understood that it had never existed at all. Learning to read & write, as well as learning about all those cities like Rome, Cairo & New York had been useless. She couldn't even call it a waste of time, because her time had no value...like her.

There was only one thing left to do, and it would be done that night.

Gwen waited in her bed until all the other girls were asleep. She watched the nun on duty and observed that she came in to make an inspection every 30 minutes. At around 11pm, just after the nun's last inspection, Gwen knew it was time, in fact, she could hardly wait. The girl crept out of her bed, careful not to wake the others, & snuck out of the ward. She would do this in the hallway.

There was a wastebasket full of papers, perfect for Gwendolyn's purpose. She checked to her left and right, then pulled the fragments of her mother's crucifix from the pocket of her nightgown. Without any sentimental remorse she tossed it in the trash, keeping the only things she would need...the matches. They were good wooden ones. Gwen struck a match, and watched as the flame took hold. She carefully placed it in the trash can, and it quickly caught the papers aflame.

When yellow tongues of flame rose up a few feet, Gwen shoved the can directly under a curtain, and watched the fire explode up the wall. _Wait...don't do it too soon..._ she ordered herself. Once Gwen was sure the flames had taken a hold of the wood in the ceiling she dashed to the manual fire alarm. It was her intention to sound the alarm, but she hesitated. _Let them die_...Gwen thought of the nuns and the other girls, _what the hell do I owe them anyway_? She could not do it, though...what Gwen was about to do was _enough_ of a weight on her soul without taking the lives of everyone around her.

By the time she hit the alarm the flames had engulfed the hallway gloriously. The shrill bell rang out and she heard frantic voices yelling "Smoke, I smell smoke!" Gwen dashed back to her dormitory ward and found it easy to slip into the chaos of panicked girls. Nobody even took notice as she slid back in to bed and pulled the calico blanket over her head.

The nun on duty, Sister Joanna, rushed in and organized the terrified children. Gwen realized she must have run directly through the flaming hallway to reach the dorm...an heroic act, Gwen grudgingly admitted. Lucky for Gwen, nobody performed a bed-check, so she went completely un-noticed as she peeked out from under the covers. Sister Joanna evacuated her charges in a double-file line, and Gwen was left alone just as the first flames & smoke entered the dormitory.

_This is it_, she thought to herself, _a bad end to a bad life_. She didn't know if this was the end of her, or, as the nuns told the girls, some divine judgment awaited her. Either way, she was ready for it. If this was the end, good. If she would have to stand before the seat of God that was alright with her too. As she saw it, He owed her _some _explanation for the life she had just lived...

_**Doctor Ashish**_

"You've got to be fucking kidding me" cursed Doctor Belisario, "I hold 4 doctorates but I can't get a damn packet of peanuts open?" He pulled & twisted at the pack, and even banged them on the tray table, but he made no progress. Just before he used his teeth, Elio stopped him.

"Just use this" he said, offering the doctor a pocket knife.

"Thanks," Belisario accepted it, but then whispered, "Wait just a minute! How the hell did you get a knife onto an airplane!"

"I have 35 years in clandestine service and you think I can't sneak a pocket knife past an underpaid airport screener?" Elio chuckled, "I may not have 4 doctorates but I have _some_ skills, plus I know how to get a bag of nuts open."

Belisario sliced open his bag of peanuts and returned the knife, trying to be as inconspicuous as he could. "Well, doctorates or not, we sure appreciate your help in figuring out the that conditioning problem. Who knew hyperbaric _pressure _caused the drug cocktail to become unstable? You know...it's going to be murder managing a cyborg that can only tolerate 1/4 of our previous conditioning minimums."

"I suppose..." sighed Alboreto, "but I'll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it. First we have to build the cyborg, eh?"

"That's almost routine these days" Belisario assured him, "it took us _years_ to figure out how to put the first generation girls together, but these 2nd gen's are a lot easier & less expensive to construct."

The 2 men were in business class aboard an Alitalia booking from Rome to Shannon Airport in Limerick. Last night the Social Welfare Agency had received an urgent call from the Head Surgeon at Dublin Charity Hospital. He had a critical burn case on his hands and he hoped the high-tech Italian agency could help. Belisario & Alboreto had taken the first available flight to the Republic of Ireland, one that put them on the wrong side of the country, but they at least had a commuter flight to Dublin the next morning. They had already had to catch connections in Milan & London, but they hoped the effort would be worth it. If this girl proved to be an acceptable candidate for cybernetic conversion the Italian government would dispatch a military med-evac jet...already standing by in Rome.

"Pardon me gentlemen," interrupted a pretty flight attendant, "would either of you like a drink?"

"A rum & coke, please" answered the doctor.

"Just water for me...with a cup of ice, please" added Elio.

As soon as the stewardess was gone Belisario asked "Did you quit drinking?"

"Not a chance..." Elio replied, "...but it was a rough stretch, these last couple of months, so I figured I should make an effort to dry out a little. We'll be in Limerick overnight, I'll have to have a pint or two of Guinness with dinner."

* * *

"Good morning, or should I say _buongiorno__colleghi_" greeted a tall young doctor with dark skin and brilliant green eyes, "I am Doctor Vidya Ashish...consulting surgeon on the Doyle girl."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Doctor Belisario" he was delighted at his Indian colleague's Italian greeting. Belisario had been less than impressed by the Irish cuisine at dinner the previous night and was already beginning to feel homesick.

"And you, Doctor?" asked the young woman, extending her hand to Elio.

"My name is Elio Alboreto...not a doctor" he answered, shaking the hand of Dr. Ashish.

"Oh..." replied the Indian woman, not hiding her disappointment very well, "...what is your involvement in this case, if I may ask?"

Belisario answered for him; "Mr. Alboreto is a special representative of the Italian government, sent to access the case."

To Ashish that sounded like _accountant_, a government bean counter sent to decline care for the horribly burned Gwendolyn Doyle if it proved too expensive. She pressed for details "So, Mr. Alboreto, exactly what is your specialty?"

"Bartending" replied Elio.

Luckily the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the head surgeon, Doctor Russell Fagan, whom Belisario had spoken to on the telephone. "Gentlemen, I'm glad you're here. I hope your flight was not too inconvenient?"

"Part of the job." answered Belisario, "May I introduce Mr. Elio Alboreto, a representative of..."

"I know who _the Godfather_ is." interrupted Dr. Fagan, shaking Elio's hand "but you probably don't remember me. I was the one who fished that bullet out of your stomach in Nicosia all those years ago. It was in a U.N. field hospital."

"I'm sorry I don't remember, but I thank you." replied Elio, "I was pretty delirious by the time they pulled me out of that hole." He wondered if this was the doctor who had first prescribed the morphine he'd gotten hooked on.

"I was just the doc on call that day...it was an Italian agent, from their Department of the Interior, that you should really thank. He led the team that rescued you. Lorenzo...I think his name was. Did you ever find out what became of him?"

"I still talk to him now and then" Alboreto replied, not telling the whole truth.

Young Dr. Ashish was confused by all this. What had an Italian government accountant, who spoke with a distinct English accent, been doing in Cyprus, and why did he have a bullet in his gut? She felt very uneasy, like there was a lot that these men were not telling her. "Sorry to interrupt, but we really should make the most of our time" she said, "you will want to see Gwendolyn I'm sure."

The 3 doctors, plus Elio, entered the burn ward. "I'm going to have to ask you to change into clean surgical scrubs, and wear a mask. Mr. Alboreto, I will also ask you to keep at least one meter back. Nothing personal, you understand, but we wish to limit her contact so...doctors only" explained Vidya, "Miss Doyle has burns over every centimeter of her body. Any infection could be fatal to her."

"Of course" agreed Elio. He got his first glimpse of the girl through the glass. Gwen Doyle was barely recognizable as human. She had no hair, and no skin...she looked like a burnt piece of meat. Once they all changed clothes the 4 passed through 2 airlock doors and into the ward. He got a closer look at Gwendolyn. Large patches of her skull were exposed where burnt flesh had been removed. One of her eyes was still intact, but it had no lid, and a nurse had to administer lubricating eye drops every few minutes.

"Her lungs are burned beyond repair" sighed Dr. Fagan, "She's only alive because we're running her blood through an external oxygenator...plus a dialysis machine. Once we unhook her, she will die."

"She's conscious?" asked Elio, with surprise.

"Of course not" answered Dr. Ashish, "Miss Doyle is in a drug-induced coma."

"Her eye just looked straight at me" he told them. Elio walked back and forth a few times, careful to stay out of the 1 meter radius that Dr. Ashish had asked for. "It's following me."

"I'll be damned..." muttered Russell Fagan, as he examined the moving eye with a pen-light "some kind of involuntary target fixation maybe. I _assure_ you she is not conscious though." Elio accepted that and reminded himself not to fixate on the eyes. It was memories of Marina's eyes that still haunted him and caused him problems.

Dr. Belisario was already making his examination. "The brain & core nervous system are crucial to the procedure we hope to do. The rest of the body can be re-grown or replaced with artificial parts while the patient is under a deep hypnotic coma."

"I can't promise anything," said Fagan, "but I see no reason her central nervous system should not be functional."

"In that case" Belisario told them, "I am prepared to make the call. The Social Welfare Agency will have an aircraft here in a few hours."

* * *

The plane was on it's way. While Elio Alboreto stayed at the hospital with Gwendolyn & Dr. Fagan, Belisario and Ashish went to lunch. She had heard about his dislike of Irish food, and offered to take him to the best Indian restaurant in Dublin. For her, it was an opportunity to fish for information.

"This is _really_ excellent" complimented Belisario, eating chicken vindaloo for the first time, "I thought I would starve before I got back to Rome. Do you think the restaurant would give me the recipe so the agency cafeteria could try making this?"

"This restaurant?" laughed Vidya, between bites of her alu-gobi. "They'll never give up their secrets, but my mother can make vindaloo. Give me your e-mail address before you leave and I'll send you her recipe."

"Gladly!" he replied, fishing his business card out of his wallet and offering it to her.

"In exchange...tell me about Rome, specifically the Social Welfare Agency." By now Vidya did not expect any honest answers, but even a lie might give her a little insight.

"Our work is published in the medical journals," explained Belisario, "our research provides the most cutting edge artificial limbs to patients in need, free of charge in most cases. We use intense cases like Gwendolyn to push our science to the next level."

"What kind of life will she lead...if she ever regains consciousness?"

"The children that require extensive _rebuilding_ live in a dormitory on our facility. This is necessary as they require constant medical supervision. They attend classes, they have hobbies, they live like normal children." Belisario gave the normal lies. "What we learn from them advances our research by leaps & bounds, and in exchange they get their new bodies free of charge."

"I'd love to visit someday..." suggested Dr. Ashish.

Belisario shook his head, "I'm sorry. As a policy we avoid allowing the children contact with their former lives. Even though you never met Gwendolyn before her accident you know a great deal about her. If anyone were to make a small mistake and bring up past trauma the consequences to the child's mental heath could be disastrous."

"I see" she muttered, with a sly smile that she hoped would let Dr. Belisario know she was aware he was lying.

There was still 2 hours until the Italian med-evac plane was to arrive so the two Doctors went back to Vidya's apartment. They opened a bottle of wine and ended up making love on the Indian doctor's living room sofa.

* * *

There was little for Dr. Fagan and his team to do once the Italian team arrived. They already had a mobile life-support unit ready. Gwendolyn was slid into an oxygen tent and whisked away to the airport in under a half an hour. Russell, Vidya, and the rest of the staff said their brief goodbyes to the unconscious Gwen & wished the Italians good luck. Then their involvement in the whole affair was over, and life went on as it had before.

It was 2 days before Dr. Ashish noticed something strange while reviewing the paperwork. She went straight to the Chief Surgeon's office and confronted him. "Dr. Fagan, what is this?" she demanded, waving a very official looking sheet of paper.

"Let me get my glasses..." he stalled.

"Cut the crap, Chief, this is a _death certificate_ for Gwendolyn Doyle, the girl we handed over to the Italian Welfare Agency! What is going on, doctor?"

"Lock the door" he ordered. Once it was done Russell explained something; "Vidya, please sit down...that man that walked in with Dr. Belisario was a man I ran into while working in a U.N. field hospital in Cyprus. He's a spy nicknamed _The Godfather_ ...MI-6...or at least he was then, I don't know what he's doing with the Italians now, but I'm sure it has to do something with another spy named Lorenzo, part of the Italian Ministry of Interior. One thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that he is a cold-blooded government killer. When a man like _that_ walks into your hospital you don't ask questions. He asked me to write the death certificate...told me a new identity would help Gwendolyn adjust to her new life. We both know he's lying about something, but why dig for a truth we might not want to know? What would have happened to Miss Doyle if we kept her here?"

"A permanent vegetative state...or more likely, death" admitted Dr. Ashish.

"So whatever the Italian Welfare Agency has in mind must be an improvement" said Dr. Fagan. He smiled and told her one more thing. "I signed the death certificate, but Mr. Alboreto signed something as well...a check...2 million euros for the hospital burn ward. I didn't ask him for it, he just thanked me for my co-operation, and handed me the check."

Dr. Vidya Ashish gazed out the window. She said nothing, but wondered if she would ever feel comfortable about the case of Gwendolyn Doyle.

* * *

In a dark room, the red-haired girl opened her eyes…wet with tears, which seemed very normal to her. There was only a single light in the room, and a man with grey hair and a matching beard sat under it, reading from a file. She was not afraid of him, in fact she felt a warm, satisfied sensation when she laid eyes on him, like he was an old, trusted friend, or maybe a family member.

The man noticed she was awake, and put on his eyeglasses. "Hello Marisa," he said in a soft, calming tone, "do you know my name?"

She did not, but only one name filled her mind, so she spoke it, "Elio Alboreto, sir."

"Very good" he replied with a smile, "and do you know what this is?" He held on his open palm a pistol. He had only picked it up from the armory 30 minutes ago...it was the only thing they had in stock, but it would work for now.

"Beretta 92FS" she answered correctly. Instinctively she took the pistol, tipped the barrel up and moved the slide back to check the chamber. Elio was pleased to see that. "It doesn't have any bullets in it" she told him. The girl handed the pistol back and added "it's useless to me like this."

"You'll get plenty of rounds later" Alboreto informed her, accepting the Beretta back.

She rolled over onto her side, wrapping the bed-sheet over her naked body, "I only need one." she said, and then went back to sleep.

_**32 meters**_

It was a week into Marisa's dive training and the crew of the Dive Training Center's 35 foot boat waited anxiously on deck. Some smoked cigarettes, some tried to occupy themselves with menial tasks. There were far too many people on board, it only took two to run the vessel, but 8 men & women idled around the deck. Two were in full SCUBA gear, ready to jump in the water at a moment's notice. Two more checked and re-checked lifesaving gear. Above them a helicopter made wide circles, but stayed within a half kilometer.

They all jumped to their feet when a single figure popped up next to the down-line buoy. It was Elio. He patted his head twice to indicate 'diver okay' and then pumped his fist in the air triumphantly. Seconds later Marisa surfaced and gave the same head patting signal. The men & women aboard the vessel cheered! She popped her regulator out of her mouth and shouted "32 meters! My deepest dive ever!" but then a swell overtook her and she had to cough up a mouthful of salt water.

Elio swam to her and instructed, "Regulator in your mouth...air up your BC." She did as he said, popping her mouthpiece back in and using the power inflator button to fill her buoyancy compensator vest with air so that she bobbed safely at the surface. To her surprise, Elio threw his arms around her and hugged her close. Marisa liked it, but wondered what the big deal was..._sure it was my deepest dive, but aren't we going even deeper tomorrow?_

There was a party that night at the Dive Training Center. All of the trainers & staff were there, dancing to music from an FM radio & grilling steaks on the patio. Marisa was even allowed to have some wine for the first time in her life. After dinner there was a big cake, frosted in blue and carrying the words "32 METERS/106 FEET." Nobody would tell Marisa why her first dive past 30 meters was such a big event...the best answer anyone would give her was that 100ft was a big milestone in non-metric units. She shrugged her shoulders and just accepted it...she was certainly enjoying the party.

Midnight came and the party was still going on, but Elio had decided it was well past time for his young student to be in bed. She objected of course, "But Elio...everyone is still here...I want to stay at the party...I'm not even tired!"

"You've fallen asleep twice already" he reminded her, "if you're not tired why am I carrying you?"

"I'm just dizzy from the wine" she retorted.

"Sure" he chuckled, bringing Marisa to her room "you had _one glass_ and that was hours ago. We have a big day tomorrow...or maybe you don't _want_ to try for 40 meters?"

"Will there be another party?" she inquired, hopefully.

"Don't bet on it kiddo" he laughed, "now get ready for bed, there's one more thing." He hurried off to get something from his car...the brand new BMW M3 he'd bought with Chief Lorenzo's_ signing bonus_. Marisa was already in her nightgown and brushing her teeth when he returned with a green and gold wrapped package. "One last memento to help you remember the day" he said, handing her the gift. She smiled broadly, and tried to keep her dignity, but the anticipation was enormous. Marisa carefully preserved the golden bow, but the green wrapping paper was sacrificed to her eager tearing fingers.

Inside the box was a knit woolen sweater, slightly off-white, with polished wooden buttons in front. The collar tag told her it was "HAND-MADE IN COUNTY CORK, REPUBLIC OF IRELAND." Although Marisa knew nothing of Ireland (she had the vague impression that it was near Elio's home country of England) she felt a warm feeling of nostalgia just running her fingers across the intricate knitting. "It's...beautiful" she said, breathlessly.

"Try it on..." Elio urged, with a smile on his face. Marisa slipped her new sweater on. "Is it too loose or too tight?" he asked, "We can always send it back and try another size."

"It's just right!" The girl wore a grin from ear to ear. "I'll never take it off!" she promised.

**THE END**

***deleted scene***

As Elio gathered up their bags from the luggage turnstile in Dublin, Dr. Belisario checked the rental car desks. They did not have a reservation, so he had to check 3 companies before he was finally able to secure a Ford Ka. It was tiny, but that was alright, both he & Elio traveled light. "Where do I pick the car up?" he asked.

"It's in lot 3-F" replied the rental desk clerk, "There's a shuttle that can take you out there, but it only runs every half-hour this early in the morning."

Elio had walked up by this time, he asked "How long a walk is it?"

"Only a few hundred meters, Sir" explained the clerk. He drew a crude map on the back of Belisario's rental contract, "you pass straight through these doors, and turn left."

Colin Wylie liked working the airport. Tourists carried lots of cash, it didn't matter to him what country it came from. They reacted slowly to being mugged as well...having a lot of trouble finding and communicating with the Irish police. By the time they made a report Colin could blend in with a crowd and slip away. Security cameras were no problem...they only caught amateurs.

He chose his marks...two men speaking Italian, and wearing expensive looking suits. One older man, and a thin bald fellow. They did not carry any large bags, probably rich business types who sent their luggage to a hotel ahead of them. These were not _perfect_ targets...businessmen usually carried credit cards instead of cash, but it was early and pickings were slim. The fat tourists would show up later. Maybe it was better to wait. Colin then caught a glimpse of the watches on the men's wrists. _Very nice_ he observed, resolving to hit this target after all. He stalked them into the rental car lot. _Too easy_. They'd chosen a 3rd-rate rental company that did not have many security cameras. He pulled the ski mask over his face...

"Cash, watches, briefcases, NOW!" Colin shouted, brandishing his knife. The bald man took a step back, and seemed ready to fight for his briefcase, but the grey-haired older man just raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Are you fucking kidding me, lad?" he muttered.

"Hand it over unless you want to die!" Wylie growled. Elio shrugged his shoulders, took a step forward and faked a clumsy grab for the knife. Colin took the bait, reacting with a jab, and got a painful kick in the knee for his trouble.

He scrambled back to his feet and slashed at Elio in anger. This time the older man side-stepped his blow, and caught his wrist on the back-stroke. The blade clattered to the pavement as Alboreto twisted Colin's wrist, painfully, but not quite to the point of breaking. "You're out matched lad, are you too dumb to see that?" growled Elio, "Go get a real job before you get yourself killed!" He tossed Wylie down to the ground and considered the matter settled.

Colin did not consider the matter settled. In a rage he snatched up his knife and charged. Elio met him head on this time. Faster than Belisario could register what was happening Colin's knife was rammed up through his jaw, and into his brain. He gagged, and fell to the ground, dead.

"Was that necessary?" muttered Belisario. He was actually pretty shaken up...it was not normal for him to see a man killed in a parking lot...but he was good at playing it cool. "Now we have to wait around and file a police report."

"Waste of time" muttered Elio, wiping the blood off his fingers with a handkerchief, "I'll call the local MI-6 office for a cleaner...I still have friends over there." He looked at his cell phone and muttered, "Damn it, no signal, is yours working?"

"You don't have an agency satellite phone yet?" Belisario asked, handing his over.

"I do...but I left it on the charger back in Rome."

***Author: I eliminated this scene because it was just_ too convenient_, Colin meeting his end at the hands of Gwen's future handler. In the real world, evil more often goes unpunished. I include it at the end however, for the satisfaction those in the audience who just want to see Colin Wylie dead, regardless of how unrealistically it happens.***


End file.
